


Lessons Unlearned

by purplehairedwonder



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-01
Updated: 2011-05-01
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:55:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplehairedwonder/pseuds/purplehairedwonder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[6.19 coda] The moment Sam sees the sulfur on the floor, he knows. He's all too familiar with doing the wrong things for the right reasons, after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lessons Unlearned

_“Suspicion is the cancer of friendship.”_

_– Francesco Petrarch_

 

When Sam bends over and feels the sulfur between his fingers, the faint odor of rotting eggs reaching his nose, everything comes together in a rush so intense that Sam nearly loses his balance. Eve’s words about Crowley being alive, vague impressions he has of Crowley’s supposed death, the odd way Cas has been acting since the Titanic incident… And now demons taking interest in Eve’s monster mash?

Cas is standing just over his shoulder and Sam feels the urge to pull away, but rises to his feet instead, still rubbing the familiar sulfur sediment between his fingers. He knows he has no room to judge others for working with demons as a memory of Ruby flashes in front of his eyes.

He shoves the image away and pulls his gaze up to meet Dean’s. “So what do you think?”

“I think that demons don’t give a crap about monster tweens unless they’re told to,” Dean replies with a verbal shrug.

Sam can’t help but look down at the two small bodies discarded like garbage in the stairwell and thinks that he could have been like Ryan, and Dean like Joe, had he stayed on the dark path Ruby had taken him down and the thought sends a shiver up his spine.

And that only makes him worry more if his suspicions are right. He knows Cas would never work with Crowley for the fun of it; he’s fighting an archangel in Heaven to keep the Apocalypse train derailed and is getting desperate, if his staunch trust in Balthazar is any indication. Sam knows desperation well; knows the feeling of doing the wrong things for what seem like the right reasons when the chance presents itself.

But Cas is his friend, has saved his life on numerous occasions, and Sam hates to think his friend is making the same mistakes he’d seen Sam make and what those mistakes had led to.

“So you think she was telling the truth?” he asks instead of voicing his thoughts.

“The truth about what?” Cas asks, jumping into the conversation a little too quickly to Sam’s ears. Every word, every intonation, every glance, is suddenly evidence in the trial going on in Sam’s mind. He could never quite break the pre-law habit no matter how far removed he is from Stanford.

Dean pauses, looks at his angel friend as if looking for the right words to brace him before speaking. “She said that Crowley’s still kickin’.”

Cas frowns. “But I burned his bones, how can— Is she certain?”

Sam knows Cas doesn’t show a lot of emotion as a rule, but thinks he should probably be a little more surprised than he’s letting on if he isn’t actually involved. Sam looks over at Bobby and sees the same doubt playing in the older hunter’s eyes and that solidifies it for him. Bobby’s spent the most time with Cas over the last couple of days, after all. And Bobby’s not so emotionally tied up with the angel as he and Dean are; he’s the most likely of them to see the spade for what it is.

“Sounded pretty sure,” Dean replies, no hint of suspicion on his voice, just weariness about the whole damn situation. “According to her, Crowley’s still waterboarding her kids—somewhere.”

Cas studies the floor and Sam is reminded of the angel’s expression after resinking the Titanic when Dean asked about what had happened. It’s just another blow to his defense when he says, “I don’t understand.”

Sam thinks he does.

“He’s a crafty son of a bitch,” Dean says, attempting to be conciliatory. For all his annoyed comments during the day, Dean still trusts the angel implicitly. He’s irritated and more than a little hurt that Cas isn’t telling them anything about the war, but he’s not suspicious.

No, Dean doesn’t see the look of guilt hiding just behind Cas’ stoic expression. Sam’s had too much experience with guilt not to recognize it, even shoved beneath the surface, when he sees it. And especially on the face of someone not nearly so experienced with lying and guilt.

“I’m an angel,” Cas says, meeting Dean’s gaze once again. “I’ll look into it immediately.” And with a fluttering of wings, he’s gone before he has to answer any questions.

“Cas!” Dean yells crossly. “Well, let us know what you find out!”

Sam bites down on a curse and nods at Bobby to head for the living room. The older hunter follows. Sam can feel Dean’s confused look on his back as he follows them.

“What?” he asks, looking between them. “What?”

Sam can’t bear to look at Dean, to be the one to cast doubt on their friend when he’s done plenty to break trust in the past, and can’t bear to see the hurt or angry look that’s bound to come from the accusation that, as of right now, has no proof backing it up—just a gut feeling of certainty that Sam’s learned to trust over the years.

Bobby seems to understand his struggle and turns to face Dean while Sam keeps his back to his brother. The prosecution calls Bobby Singer to the stand, Sam thinks idly.

“How did Crowley get away?” Bobby asks. “I mean, it’s not like Cas to make mistakes like that. Unless—”

“Unless what?” _Now_ suspicion enters Dean’s voice.

“Unless he meant to,” Bobby replies heavily.

And there it is, out in the open. Sam’s glad he’s too cowardly to look at Dean right now, though he can picture the gamut of emotions that run across his face until disbelief sticks. 

“Bobby, this is Cas we’re talking about.”

Bobby and Sam share a look before Sam feels Dean’s eyes on him again.

“Do you believe this?” he asks.

Sam Winchester, please take the stand.

Sam swallows. He’s made a point of not lying to Dean, not since he set Lucifer free, and doesn’t want to start now. He knows what secrets between them mean, what they can lead to. But he also knows what this accusation could do to Dean. How much it would hurt. And Sam’s not sure he’s ready to do that to his brother.

“Sam?” Dean prompts.

Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth?

“Look, it’s probably nothing,” Sam finally says. “It’s just—” It’s just what? What can he tell Dean that’s not going to feel like a stab to the heart? He shares a glance with Bobby, but the older hunter has no answer.

So Sam lies. “You know what, you’re right. It’s probably nothing.”

Every word feels like a poison coming from his lips, especially when he feels Dean’s stare turn back to Bobby. It’s not fair he should bear the brunt of Dean’s frustration, but dammit if Sam can’t bring himself to look at his brother. Bobby gives him a small nod, saying he understands and that it’s OK and they’ll figure it out, but that doesn’t alleviate the guilt gnawing at Sam’s gut.

There’s something itching in the back of his mind, something telling him that he’s on the right track. Something behind the wall wants to make itself known, wants to give Sam the answers he’s searching for, the proof he needs to give Dean…

Sam ignores it, ignores the itching as best he can like he has been since Rhode Island and hopes to anyone listening above that he’s wrong.  
  



End file.
